Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Secret That Spans a Millennium (Part Two)

“Unworthy descendant Li Qisi, together with nephews Fuyan and Fuqi, has come to pay respects and inform the ancestors. I earnestly pray that our forebears will protect the Li family, that all our kin may weather this great calamity and ensure health and safety for generations to come…”

Li Qisi murmured prayers, clutching a bundle of burning incense sticks. Within the ancestral hall, smoke curled lazily through the air, while outside, heavy rain battered the roof tiles with the sound of exploding beans, lending the shrine a grave and solemn atmosphere.

Li Yiting and Li Fuqi knelt respectfully behind Li Qisi. When the prayers were finished, Li Qisi followed a peculiar path to place the incense, a process that took more than ten minutes. Upon his return, he carried in his hands a strange object.

“Rise,” Li Qisi commanded in a low, unquestionable tone.

The two rose obediently, watching him in silence. Since childhood, they had been taught that in the ancestral hall, Li Qisi's word was law; it was best to listen and speak little.

In his hands, Li Qisi held a bizarre-looking bronze artifact. A thick verdigris coated its surface. It resembled a weapon: one thin, sharp end, about a dozen centimeters long, like the tip of a sword but lacking a hilt. Instead, a spiral, serpentine tail extended from the end—longer than the blade itself, about thirty centimeters. Most curious of all, a shallow groove ran from the sword’s head all the way down to the tip of the spiral, giving it an uncanny appearance.

He lifted this strange weapon above his head, bowed three times toward the ancestral tablets, then turned to face the two young men.

“Give me your hands,” Li Qisi ordered, his tone brooking no disagreement.

They complied. With a sudden motion, Li Qisi drew the blade across Li Yiting’s forearm. Yiting felt little pain, but a flash of blood glimmered; scarlet drops trickled down the groove, from the blade to the curved spike, then dripped to the floor.

Without a word, Li Qisi turned to Fuqi. Unlike the battle-hardened Yiting, Fuqi hesitated briefly, but quickly steeled himself, allowing Li Qisi to pierce his arm with the sharp tip. A stream of blood gushed out, flowing back along the weapon in the opposite direction.

Fuqi clutched his wounded arm, blood still oozing forth, his expression a mix of pain and confusion.

Neither of the young men understood their uncle’s intent, but Yiting knew it was some strange and solemn ritual. He had no idea of the details, but with some experience in first aid, he pressed a finger to the wound to slow the bleeding.

Li Qisi paid them no heed. He raised the weapon and knelt before the ancestral tablets again.

Yiting and Fuqi hastily knelt as well.

“Honored ancestors, I, Li Qisi, lacking the strength to guard this ancient divine weapon, now entrust this great responsibility to my descendants, Fuyan and Fuqi. I beg your protection, that through your divine power, peace may be everlasting. Fuyan and Fuqi are outstanding among our kin—pure of heart, generous, capable—and will not fail in this charge.”

The three bowed again, then rose.

Before either could speak, Li Qisi explained, “This sword is called Yiwei, though the world often refers to it as the Fish Intestine. It is a wondrous weapon from antiquity, entrusted to our Li family centuries ago. Our ancestors swore a solemn oath: as long as the sword endures, so must we; if the sword is lost, so are we. Through my generation, a thousand years have passed. Now I entrust it to you. Remember always the words of our ancestors: guard the divine artifact with your very lives; as long as the sword endures, so must you; if it falls, so do you.”

Li Yiting was deeply shocked—such a peerless treasure had lain hidden in their unremarkable ancestral hall. Fuqi was even more stunned, hardly able to believe what he’d heard.

“Though this is a divine weapon of ancient times, its nature is both righteous and wicked. Its guardians have often met with ill fortune, their fates left to heaven. Now I will tell you its full history…”

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Zhuanzhu was a native of Tangyi in the Wu state. According to the *Annals of Wu and Yue*, when Wu Zixu fled from Chu to Wu, he saw Zhuanzhu fighting an opponent with the fury of ten thousand men, utterly unstoppable. Wu Zixu recognized him as a warrior willing to face great peril and befriended him.

After Wu Zixu was granted an audience with King Liao of Wu, he urged him to attack Chu, but Prince Guang objected: “That Wuyuan only wants revenge. His father and brother were killed by Chu, so of course he wants war. He’s not thinking of Wu’s interests.” The king thus set aside plans for invasion.

Wu Zixu, knowing Prince Guang intended to assassinate the king, said, “Prince Guang seeks the throne; now isn’t the time to urge him against foreign foes.” He introduced Zhuanzhu to Prince Guang instead.

Prince Guang's father was King Zhufan of Wu, who had three younger brothers: Yujai, Yimei, and, youngest, Jizi Zha. Zhufan recognized Zha’s wisdom, so he set aside the crown prince and wished to pass the throne down by seniority, finally to Zha. After Zhufan’s death, the throne passed to Yujai, and after his death, to Yimei. Upon Yimei’s death, the throne was supposed to go to Zha, but he refused, so the people installed Yimei’s son Liao as king. Prince Guang argued, “By seniority, Zha should rule; by birthright, I am the true heir.” Thus, he secretly gathered talented men to help him seize the throne.

After gaining Zhuanzhu’s service, Prince Guang treated him as an honored guest. In 516 BCE, King Ping of Chu died. In the spring, King Liao sought to exploit Chu’s mourning, sending his brothers Gaiyu and Shuyong to besiege Zhencheng, and dispatched Yanling Jizi to Jin to observe the states. Chu cut off the Wu army’s retreat, trapping them. Prince Guang said to Zhuanzhu, “Now is our chance! If I don’t seize it, when will I? I am the rightful heir; even if Jizi returns, he won’t oust me.” Zhuanzhu replied, “King Liao can be killed. His mother is old, his brothers are trapped at war, and there are no loyal ministers at court. What can he do to stop us?” Prince Guang bowed low: “My body is yours; may you see to everything after.”

On the bingzi day, fourth month, 515 BCE, Prince Guang hid armored warriors in his cellar and prepared a banquet for King Liao, who brought his guards, lining the way from the palace to Prince Guang’s house, with trusted men and spearmen at every door and step. During the drinking, Prince Guang feigned a bad leg and went to the cellar, where Zhuanzhu hid a dagger in a roasted fish’s belly. The fish was served; Zhuanzhu split it open before King Liao and used the dagger to stab him dead. The guards killed Zhuanzhu, but chaos erupted. Prince Guang’s men emerged, slaughtered King Liao’s followers, and Guang claimed the throne as King Helu of Wu.

After Helu’s ascension, he ennobled Zhuanzhu’s son as chief minister and, per Zhuanzhu’s wish, buried him beside the tomb of Taibo, with all honors. The “Tomb of Zhuanzhu” remains on Hongshan Ridge to this day. The Zhuanzhu Tower in Dalou Lane is said to be his memorial. The local scholar Qin Songshuo once wrote of it: “With one sword he repaid kindness and claimed the world, but now grass and flowers overrun the old palace; incense and chivalry remain at the ruined tower—this patch of earth still belongs to Wu.”

Because Zhuanzhu learned the art of roasting fish on the shores of Lake Tai, he is revered as the “ancestor of chefs.” In former times, city folk would burn incense in his honor. The famous dish “sweet and sour fish” in the Suzhou-Hangzhou region is said to descend from this tradition and was invented by the celebrated chef Taihe Gong or “Lord of Lake Tai,” who taught Zhuanzhu his craft.

The Fish Intestine Sword is said to have been forged by the master Ou Yezi for the King of Yue, using tin from Chijin Mountain and copper from the Ye River, refined by rain and thunder to absorb the essence of heaven and earth. Five swords were made: Zhanlu, Chunjun, Shengxie, Fish Intestine, and Juque. When the Fish Intestine Sword was finished, the famed sword reader Xue Zhu was invited to assess it. Xue Zhu, almost possessed of second sight, sensed the energy within and declared: “This sword is against reason and nature; it cannot be worn. It will serve a minister to slay his lord, or a son to slay his father.”

All these are legends—not to be wholly believed or wholly doubted. [Sources from the public domain.]

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“The dagger Zhuanzhu hid in the fish’s belly was this very Yiwei. The inscriptions carved into its blade are proof. The name ‘Fish Intestine’ arose from later legend and misinterpretation. Before the reign of Gaozong of Tang, the sword was kept in the imperial treasury. When Empress Wu seized the throne, purging the Li clan and imposing strange surnames, a Li clansman, before exile, sent a retainer to steal this peerless weapon from the royal vault, providing a hope for future vengeance. Since then, Yiwei has followed our ancestors through hardship, until they settled here. For over a thousand years, generation after generation of the Li family has guarded it.”

“The ancient vendetta has faded into history, but to safeguard the divine artifact is a matter of principle. We must never let it fall into the hands of the wicked, or bloodshed and chaos will return, and the blame will be ours.”

Li Yiting and Li Fuqi exchanged uneasy glances.

“Uncle… we, we…” Fuqi voiced his apprehension first.

Li Qisi saw their distress and smiled gently. “Fuqi, you may both rise. Don’t be overly anxious. Our ancestors knew how difficult it would be for future generations to guard the artifact, so…” He reverently returned the Fish Intestine Sword to its place on the altar.

“Our forebears, wise beyond compare, set many traps within the ancestral hall. Should anyone harbor evil intent, a thousand blades will pierce their heart, punishing them on the spot.”

Fuqi wiped the sweat from his brow, exhaling in relief. “So that’s how it is.”

Li Qisi nodded, then gazed at Yiting with anticipation.

Yiting promptly declared, “Uncle, we will do our utmost to protect the artifact, but…”

“According to tradition, I should reveal this secret to only one heir. Yet times are perilous, and I fear betrayal or disaster might leave the artifact unguarded. I also worried Fuqi would stand alone, so I have chosen two guardians. Yiting, your skills are exceptional—help your uncle shoulder this burden.”

Yiting nodded, keeping his composure. “Uncle, this is our duty. You can trust us. But the hall is filled with traps. They may keep out intruders, but they’re a danger to us as well…”

Li Qisi smiled approvingly. “You are thoughtful indeed—I made the right choice. Here, I have a map of the hall’s mechanisms. Study it well, both of you, to avoid mishaps.” He produced two ancient books and handed one to each, clearly prepared in advance.

Yiting tucked his into his robe at once. Fuqi flipped through his with curiosity, but could make little of it.

“This is not a place to linger. Let us go.” Li Qisi spoke no more, standing in silent reflection, the weight of his duty suddenly lifted, leaving him a little lost.

The three left the hall slowly and shut the doors behind them. Li Qisi, clad in a rain cape, departed first. Yiting and Fuqi had no rain gear, but did not linger, braving the downpour as they walked home.

Now, the ancestral hall weighed heavier in their hearts.

Before, they were merely outsiders; now, as guardians, their responsibility had fundamentally changed.